Christine M. Flowers: Yanking their chain

IF THERE'S any truth to the idea of karma, the Yankees won't be winning the World Series. Their fans don't deserve it.

The team itself isn't all that objectionable, with a storied tradition and players that, except for juiced-up serial dater A-Rod, get the job done in a poetic fashion. It's actually hard to hate a club with charter members like the Babe, the Iron Man and Joltin' Joe.

But tolerance doesn't extend to the actual denizens of Gotham (and let's throw Mets, Jets, Giants, Rangers, Islanders, Nets and Knicks fans into the mix as well). Most of them live in a bubble of arrogant delusion that they rule the world.

It's about time the Phillies helped burst it.

On Wednesday, our editorial board listed some very good reasons that our northern neighbor is a pale imitation of the birthplace of liberty. It was a solid start, but hardly a comprehensive run-down of New York's fatal flaws.

As far as I'm concerned, New York excels in only one respect: its inhabitants' capacity for self-delusion. They believe they live in a pleasure dome worthy of Kublai Khan, filled with the smartest men, the best-looking women, the most beautiful buildings, the best educational institutions and the most successful businessmen.

Let's disabuse them of that notion, shall we? In terms of women, if the harpies on "Sex and the City" are any example of the womanhood strutting down the avenues, we in Philadelphia should consider ourselves fortunate not to hear the click of those Manolos.

As far as architecture, in a smackdown between the Brooklyn Bridge and the Golden Gate, that shimmering jewel of the Pacific crushes the arthritic spinster on the East River. (Neither our own Ben or Walt match Miss San Fran either, but then again, neither aspires to. We're not that presumptuous.)

Schools? Sure, they have a few good ones. But as far as I know, none of our homegrown scholars has rigged nooses outside of their ivy-covered offices to create the illusion of a hate crime, like they did at Columbia.

And businessmen? I'd trade Joey Vento for Bernie Madoff any day, since a self-made millionaire who wears his heart on his cheese-stained sleeve is worth a hundred slicksters who hide their criminality behind spotless pinstripes.

And then we have the mayors. Our fellow may be a bit boring, may seem a bit stressed and does have a strange resemblance to Mr. Potato Head.

But here's the difference between the two Mikes, Nutter and Bloomberg. The first one fought to get into office, after having spent more than a decade in public service.

Bloomie just bought it, much like his Jersey clone, Jon Corzine, who has deep pockets and a shallow civic resume. New Yorkers tend to reward illusion (see Donald Trump, too), while the rest of the world (south of the Molly Pitcher rest stop) rewards substance.

And what about history? Philadelphia has Independence Hall, New York has Tammany Hall. Philly has Ben Franklin (OK, he started out in Boston, but got out of there as soon as he could). New York has Aaron Burr, noted murderer and failed vice president. Philadelphia birthed the Declaration and Constitution, greatest written documents of the last three centuries. New York gave us the New York Times, as far as nonlefties are concerned, the worst use of paper products since single-ply toilet tissue.

And music? Philadelphia has Marian Anderson. New York has Jenny from the Block. Enough said.

Yes, it's fun to make fun of New York, playfully pointing out the superficial flaws in anticipation of another World Series victory for da Phils.

BUT ON a more serious note, it's uncomfortably easy to dislike the place. Arrogance will do that for you. In the wake of 9/11, with the shadow of an unknown enemy hanging over our collective heads, it was natural to feel

a kinship with the place that had suffered the most grievous wounds. In those mournful days in late September and October, we were able to say with no irony and full hearts, "We're all New Yorkers." I said it, and meant it.

But I also meant it when I beheld that scarred field in western Pennsylvania, and the smoldering wing of the Pentagon. New York wasn't more important, more aggrieved, than those other places. But you wouldn't know it to listen to the national media, or to New Yorkers themselves. I call it Holland Tunnel Vision.

So that's why I feel sorry for the Yankees, probably the greatest franchise to ever take the field in the history of baseball.

Too bad it has to be in New York.

Christine M. Flowers is a lawyer.

E-mail cflowers1961@yahoo.com.